The Music Man
by Songstressgirl07
Summary: Modern Day. Erik is a superhero called The Music Man, who fights those attempting to destroy the beauty of music. Doesn't sound ridiculous enough? Wait until you hear about his arch nemesis.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: If anything sounds familiar, I probably don't own it. **

**A/N: This is a little something I wrote for my Creative Writing Class. The teacher told us to create a Superhero/Superhero/Super villain, who has been retired for some time. We were supposed to explore why he/she had retired, what his/her powers are, and why he/she was coming out of retirement. I decided to build mine off of our beloved Erik. This isn't meant to be good. It was just supposed to be a fun activity I turned into fanfiction. **

The Music Man

My last adventure before the retirement was very close to my heart. It endangered a good friend of mine, and a fellow artist. It all started on warm day in early June.

My two sidekicks, the Persian Bandit and the Soprano, and I had been hanging out in my underground lair beneath the Met in New York. We were just listening to some delightful Chopin when the alarm went off. It was the Phantom of the Opera theme music (my theme music), and it could mean only one thing: there was trouble afoot.

The screen showed the problem at once. The world's best organ-maker, Gunnar Lichtenstein, had gone missing. This was terrible news, indeed. He had been my favorite supplier. I couldn't possibly have fought the Tone-Deaf Kid without an organ at my fingertips. Everyone in the world would have become as untalented as he was if his mischief went unchecked. There was little doubt in my mind that my arch nemesis was responsible for this dastardly crime.

We immediately set out for Berlin to investigate Gunnar's shop. I was the only one fluent in German (I am fluent in all European languages – it is one of my many powers), so I got all the details myself. Apparently, Gunnar had last been seen in his shop at 11 o'clock the night before his disappearance. His assistant had left him at that time while he was still working on a strange-looking organ that no one else was allowed to touch. She had returned the next morning to find the shop ransacked and Gunnar gone. She had called his home and all his favorite bars, but Gunnar was nowhere to be found. The strange organ was also missing.

I realized right away that the organ had been meant for me. I had ordered an organ with several specifications the week before. It was to have a jet propulsion system, allowing me to take it with me on battles, and the ability to control the sound waves around it. This would make any sound beautiful or ugly at my will. Not only was my most trusted organ-maker in the hands of the Tone-Deaf Kid, but so was the organ that had the ability to save him.

Luckily, I always had Gunnar to install a tracking device in my organs in case of such an emergency. The frequency would be transmitted to the computer in my lair once I activated the signal. We quickly flew back to the lair and took advantage of my foresight. Apparently, the organ was being held in New Jersey. It was a good bet that the Tone-Deaf Kid and his unfortunate hostage would be with it.

The moment was tense when we landed our stealth jet in Trenton, and began tracing the signal to a location in the city. We discovered soon after that the organ was hidden in the basement of a barbershop. "How fitting," I said wryly to my two companions.

"You betcha, Music Man," The Soprano added.

As soon as we entered the unlocked barbershop, we heard the agonized screams of Gunnar Lichtenstein. We followed the sound to the basement. Every now and then as we crept down the stairs, we heard them become distorted. The Tone-Deaf Kid was obviously experimenting with my organ. Finally his high-pitched screams joined his victim's.

"Why won't this blasted thing work," he yelled, banging on the keys of the organ. Gunnar's screams turned into the yaps of a tiny Yorkshire terrier. "Shut up, shut up, you twit!"

A quick sweep of the room told me that Gunnar was tied to a chair. He was wriggling in his bonds, but the Tone-Deaf Kid was better at tying knots than he was at singing. The ropes were far too firm for the slightly overweight, balding man.

"Leave him be," I shouted, leaping into the basement, followed by my sidekicks. My arch nemesis swore under his breath, and turned to face me.

"I knew you'd come for him, but I didn't think it would be so quickly," he declared. "However, that matters not, for I shall defeat you once and for all."

Before I had time to react, he had pulled a laser gun out of his belt, and pointed it at me, the Persian Bandit, and the Soprano. We all ducked, but it grazed The Persian Bandit's leg. I recognized the gun. It was his Tone-Killing machine. When someone was hit with it, he or she would immediately lose the ability to make music of any kind. The Persian Bandit wasn't really much good at singing anyway, so I knew there was no hope for his musical skills for a while, but I knew he would prove useful still.

I pulled out my Vibration Violin, and played a few notes. The vibrations from the instrument spilled into his ears and, though he couldn't hear the sounds, they caused and explosion of pain in his head.

The Soprano, in The Tone-Deaf Kid's moment of distraction, belted a high note that only dogs could hear, which added to the explosion inside his head. She sustained that note until The Tone-Deaf Kid fell to his knees. Meanwhile, The Persian Bandit had found a large paperweight, and swiftly knocked the Kid out with it. I rushed to untie Gunnar. In our haste to ascertain that he was fine, and his overflow of gratitude, we didn't notice that the Tone-Deaf Kid had regained consciousness.

"You may have defeated me this time," he suddenly shrieked, as we whirled around to see the secret passageway he had uncovered in the wall behind him, "but the next time we meet, one of us will die, and I have no intention of refusing you that honor."

With those parting words, he jumped into the passageway, and slammed it shut before we could stop him. We frantically pulled and pushed on the door, putting all of our combined weight on it as we fought to get it open, but it was too late. He was gone.

Once Gunnar was safely returned to his shop in Berlin, I decided it was time to hang up the black, spandex suit, velvet cloak, and black mask. I had realized how dangerous it was for my friends. If a little old man who made my organs could be in mortal danger, I hesitated to think of what could happen to my two sidekicks. The Persian Bandit, who was known as both the Persian and Nadir around the city, had been discovered, it would be my fault, and if The Soprano, who was, in fact, a leading soprano at the Met, be known for who she was, her blood would be on my hands.

I didn't hear more of the Tone-Deaf Kid. All I knew about him was that he had once had dreams of entering a boy band, but his dreams had been crushed when Simon Cowell had called him a screeching rodent in his American Idol audition. His orange and yellow leisure suit had apparently been put away forever when I retired. I was wrong.

Not long ago, The Soprano, who was known in public as Melody Dixon, woke up one day and discovered that she could no longer sing on key. She went to see a doctor, several specialists, a psychiatrist, and a fortune-teller, but no one could give her a satisfactory answer. She came to me in the old lair.

"Erik," she begged, "you must help me. I could be ruined by this. My career depends on me singing Mimi in _La Boheme_ in one week. If I don't, I'll never work at the Met again."

"I'll help you bring your voice back to par," I assured her. "Leave it to me."

"Oh, Erik, thank you," she whispered, throwing her arms around me in relief. "I don't know what I would do without you."

I was little awkward with this, but it was not unpleasant. I merely shrugged her off, and led her to my organ. We rehearsed for hours before we made any progress. From then on, it was shaping up like a charm. I was sure her voice would be back to normal in a few days with my coaching.

She left my lair happy, but she returned the next day with tears in her lovely blue eyes. "I've lost it again," she confided, weeping into a handkerchief. "I woke up with morning and tried to sing, but I can't. I just can't."

I knew something was very wrong. Trained operatic sopranos don't just suddenly lose the ability to sing on key. There was usually some medical reason, but her doctor had given her a clean bill of health. I began to suspect foul play. This had to unmistakable touch of my arch nemesis. The Tone-Deaf Kid was up to his old antics. There was only one thing to be done. I had to continue to practice with her everyday. On the day of her performance, we would begin rehearsing at the crack of dawn and not stop until her voice was perfect. I knew The Tone-Deaf Kid would be at her performance, and so would I.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I was really surprised that anybody cared about this at all. It was a lot of fun to write, but I didn't expect any sort of response. I don't generally write funny stuff. There might be a little humor, but I don't do silly, or at least I didn't until my teacher challenged me to get outside the box. I'm glad I did. **

The Tone-Deaf Kid

I waited with baited breath for the Music Man to resurface after our last encounter, but I didn't hear of him again for months. I was renting a small apartment on the West End, selling bagels to pay the rent. It had been far too long since my last plan, but I was ready for a new adventure. The Music Man may have gone into hiding, but I knew how to drag him out of his retirement. All that would be necessary was destroying the most beautiful voice in New York, his city of choice. And whose voice was that? None other than Melody Dixon, the leading soprano of the Metropolitan Opera House.

My plan was simply this: I would go to her house every night and point my supersonic tone-deaf ray gun at her throat as she slept. She would be unable to sing a single note on key. Rumors would soon circulate about her lost voice and the inability of anyone to figure out what had happened to her. It would be only a matter of time before my enemy would run to her rescue and save her voice.

Knowing The Music Man, he would have her ready to sing before the opening of Puccini's _La Boheme_. New York's most beloved soprano of New York's most beloved Opera House was scheduled to sing the most beloved part in its most beloved opera. It would be my most dastardly plot ever. I would be at that performance, and I would finally take down the fly that had been buzzing around my head for years, the fly in that tight, black spandex suit.

I knew nothing about my enemy except that he had the most amazing singing voice the world had ever heard, and that his talent with the organ and violin equaled his voice. I'd bet everything I own that Simon Cowell wouldn't have insulted him the way he had insulted me at my audition. The Music Man represented everything I, The Tone-Deaf Kid, the artist formerly known as Homer Stooge, did not have. He possessed talent, fame, and glory. I was determined to defeat him for being a constant reminder of my failings. I would take away all of his abilities with my powers, and then I would kill him as he agonized over his loss. After I had finished with him, I would turn the world into my tone-deaf minions. Never again would music haunt me with memories of my demolished dreams.

My powers are particularly singular. I discovered after my run-in with American Idol that I had negative talent. I not only had no talent of my own, but I could spoil everyone else's, too. I learned to focus my anti-talents by hanging out at American Idol auditions and taking away everybody's talents so they couldn't sing. I had hoped to ruin the show that had killed hopes by ensuring that they had no decent contestants. That is when I first heard of The Music Man.

He had recently saved the life of a flautist from the Metropolitan Opera House Orchestra. The flautist had nearly fallen to his death after a cellist dared him to climb up onto the roof. The Music Man was in the news taking pictures with the flautist, the Governor of New York, and the Mayor of New York City. Everyone was going on and on about his valor and talent, singing his praises until I was sick. A reporter asked him to give a crowd a demonstration of his abilities. I was awed. It was as if an angel had come down to earth to show the splendor of Heaven. I learned everything I could about him and his powers so I could fight him.

I had planned the day of my first confrontation with The Music Man for six months to the day after his famous incident with the flautist. I had decided to take hostage a famous Broadway producer outside of the theater currently putting on his show. I waited outside the building, and stopped him when he walked out. I asked him for his autograph, and, being extremely vain, he had immediately complied. When he handed me back the playbill of his last show, which I had gotten from eBay, I grabbed him, and pulled out my handgun, digging it into his neck as I held him against me.

Someone called the police on her cell-phone. They rushed out to surround me. I told them that my only demand was to meet The Music Man. He was on-scene within minutes. We faced each other, and I let the producer go. I told The Music Man that I was The Tone-Deaf Kid, and that I had vowed to be his downfall. Before I knew it, his sidekick The Persian Bandit came up behind me, and hit me on the head, knocking me out. I was arrested, but my lawyer advised me to plead temporary insanity, so they released me after a short trial.

The memory of my humiliation that day still stung me, but I knew I would be the last one to laugh. One day he would rue the day that he met me, and I would triumph over his demise.

I knew my plan for The Music Man's downfall was working when I heard Melody Dixon rehearsing. I was disguised as a maintenance man, and I could hear the goings-on of the stage as I cleaned the backstage toilets. The Music Man had taken the bait. Now all I had to do was reel him in. Every night I continued my excursions to her house, and every night I felt satisfaction when I heard her attempt to sing in the shower. My trusty ray gun never failed me, nor did my enemy. She would always come home singing sweetly. Soon my endless scheming would come into fruition.

And I had done a lot of scheming since The Music Man had left the public eye. I hadn't stopped for anything except eating, sleeping, using the bathroom, and watching "Grey's Anatomy." That Patrick Dempsey was so dreamy I could take my eyes off him!

I had already chosen my next targets once I had taken down The Music Man. The honor would go to Simon Cowell and Kelly Clarkson, the first American Idol winner. That recognition should have been mine!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm sorry for those of you who wanted this to be longer than four chapters (if anybody like that exists), but it had to come to an end, and I thought this was the best time for it. However, you can console yourselves by visiting some of my other stories. Shameless plug, I know, but I couldn't resist. **

The Music Man vs. The Tone-Deaf Kid

The night of the final confrontation arrived. The Metropolitan Opera House was as opulent as ever, and the patrons found it even more so as they anticipated what they knew would be a glorious performance from Melody Dixon. The performance they would see would certainly be glorious, but for reasons they couldn't have guessed prior to the rise of the curtain.

The first act was greeted with thunderous applause. The audiences laughed heartily at Marcello, Colline and Schaunard, but were quite happy to see them leave because that meant one thing: the entrance of Mimi. She wasn't met with the same applause as Rodolfo and Marcella enjoyed. Instead, everyone was completely enthralled from the second she appeared. Melody's dulcet tones floated above their heads as she told Rodolfo about her embroidery. The audience thrilled with them as their hands touched, and they confessed their affection for each other.

They were making their way toward the stage door, but they didn't succeed. For out of the shadows came a man in an orange and yellow leisure suit. He had a large gun in his hands and a maniacal grin on his face. Before anyone could react, he pointed the gun at Melody and the leading man, pulling the trigger. Everyone screamed, but they saw that the two were unharmed, or at least they seemed that way. Melody fell to the floor, and grabbed her throat. She tried to scream again, but she couldn't make a sound. Neither could the tenor playing Rodolfo.

"I am The Tone-Deaf Kid," the leisure-suited gunman shouted to the crowd. "It is no use for you to attempt an escape. I have a minion at every door. I am here to destroy The Music Man once and for all. I know you're out there somewhere, you coward, and I will find you."

"There's no need to find me," yelled a voice from Box Five. "I accept your challenge, but I shall be the victor this day." The audience all turned around to see their rescuer. Cheers erupted all throughout the theater as he swung from the box on a large crimson cord. The Persian Bandit was right behind him.

The Music Man landed on the stage with a thud. The Persian Bandit, on the other hand, landed in the center aisle. He pulled out a large scimitar, and ran to the nearest guarded door, slashing away at his opponent, who carried a broadsword. The Music Man rose, and pulled out his violin. He began to play furiously, as the Tone-Deaf Kid fired away at him. Behind the Music Man, Melody jumped to her feet, and began to sing an aria from Mozart's _The Magic Flute_.

The Persian Bandit incapacitated his opponent by smacking him upside the head with his scimitar. The man fell to his knees, limp and unconscious. The Persian Bandit ran to his next opponent, and took him out in a similar fashion.

Meanwhile, on the stage, the Tone-Deaf Kid and The Music Man were fighting for ground. The Music Man was winning with Melody's help. The tenor joined in, as well. Soon the whole cast was onstage, and they were overpowering The Tone-Deaf Kid.

The Persian Bandit had taken out all of the guards on the first floor. He ran to the entrances of the first-tier boxes, his scimitar flashing in the light of the lamps in the hallways. The adrenal was pumping through him, and his next opponent didn't have a chance.

The Tone-Deaf Kid unexpectedly gained some stage by taking out the weakest singers with his ray-gun. The Music Man couldn't keep up with the rate at which his support was crumbling, and the violin, which was taking the brunt of The Tone-Deaf Kid's attacks, was beginning to fail. He and the cast began to fall back. The orchestra joined in, and the Tone-Deaf Kid had to change tactics. He had to divide his attention between the stage and the orchestra pit. He was now fighting on two fronts, and he was starting to fail.

The Persian Bandit had by this time incapacitated all of The Tone-Deaf Kid's minions, and he made his way to the backstage. The Music Man saw him do this out of the corner of his eye. The Persian Bandit wheeled out The Music Man's organ onto the stage, and The Music Man dashed toward it. He began to bang out _The Phantom of the Opera_, and sang with it. Melody sang Christine's part, and the whole company joined in on the second verse.

The Tone-Deaf Kid's ray-gun gave out on him, and he dropped it. He jumped off the stage, and ran down the center aisle, but he was followed by The Persian Bandit. He tackled the Tone-Deaf Kid, and held him to the ground. The Tone-Deaf Kid rolled over onto his stomach, hoping to crawl away. The Persian Bandit raised his scimitar and brought the hilt down onto the back of The Tone-Deaf Kid's head, and he stopped wriggling.

The Music Man ceased his pounding and rushed over to the unconscious enemy. He pulled out his lasso, and tied up the Tone-Deaf Kid, making sure the knots were very tight. Melody jumped off the stage and ran to The Music Man, who was standing there, watching her. She threw her arms around him, and he held her close.

The room bust into cheers and applause. Everyone was relieved that all was well once more, thanks to The Music Man, The Persian Bandit, and (though they had no idea of it) The Soprano.

From then on, The Music Man and his loyal sidekicks were there to protect the sanctity of music.

**A/N: I think we all know what that third to the last paragraph was about (wink, wink). **


End file.
